The Mummy: Vassal of the Gods
by victoriarogue
Summary: A philosophy student is chosen by the ancient Egyptian gods to protect powerful artifacts that man cannot control after a cultist resurrects an ancient evil that begins to decimate the population of Egypt and soon the world. With the help of the O'Connell's and the Medjai, will the world be safe from the hands of evil or will Earth crumble from an evil god's wrath?


*sighs* I know... I'm a horrible writer. I don't finish my stories. And I suck... I'm SORRY. I really am this time! I was watching the adventure film week on TMC and the Mummy series was playing back to back. When I saw the big time gaps in between the movies, I started thinking about what happened during those gaps and what the characters were up to. Then, I watched two of the best movie adaptations for Greek myths: Troy and Clash of the Titans. I love Greek stories. They're my all time favorite stories, and just the way that they're told made me want to be a warrior someday.

So, anyway, I'm here with a new Mummy project. When I was little I was afraid to watch the Mummy, but when I did finally get to see it I laughed at myself because I thought I had to be the biggest idiot on the planet. It was an awesome Indiana Jones film! Who doesn't love two hot guys protecting you from an ancient, powerful corpse? That mummy guy had the best ass, too. It was shapely, bronze, just beautiful. AHEM! Moving along... Since I am such a fan of the Achilles storyline and I don't think it's fair that _Ardeth Bay_, one of the hottest and coolest men in the movie series, doesn't have much screen time (or a love interest) beyond the fact that he is a Medjai and protector of ancient artifacts that solely relate to Imhotep's awakening, I decided to make this story into an epic of sorts.

Disclaimer: I never write these, so this is kinda awkward. Hm... I have nothing against the long-lost sister, cousin, or whatever plot or past life in ancient Egypt storyline, but this story is _**not**_ one of those. There is a connection to the past during early civilization in ancient Egypt, but it has nothing to do with Seti I like the original Mummy series. This is more along the lines of The Iliad and the Odyssey and Clash of the Titans. Without further ado, turn on that home theater set, dim the lights, adjust the surround sound, make some popcorn, grab a drink, cuddle up with a pillow, and beware of the nudity ahead (I would grab a napkin for the naked Ardeth scenes, but I'm just sayin').

* * *

_Thebes, proud city of ancient Egypt. Birthplace to many great pharaohs and a trading center for many other countries along the tributaries of the Nile River. The earliest known trade between ancient Egypt and a foreign nation was during the reign of Pharaoh Sahure. The most famous, the reign of Queen Hatshepsut. During their reigns, the Land of Punt was a valued asset to the ancient Egyptians and their resources in Thebes. The trading of gold, myrrh, ivory from elephant tusks, and exotic animals were the foundations of the two nations' profits. The Land of Punt was known as God's Land to the Egyptians for its abundant resources. It held the Kingdom of Kush, and birthed King Solomon and Queen Sheba's son, Menelik I. Their tryst is the only well-known story of the ancient Puntites as the Egyptians so called them. Before the Persian empire brought unity to these lands, The Land of Punt and Egypt were steady businesspeople and admirable kingdoms..._

"Professor Fuccili?" a bearded man called.

This man dressed in soft, thin robes that provided some insulation for the winds to cool his fair skin was named Favelli Morello, an Italian explorer and associate of the elder man in question who was staring out into the distance of the African country. Favelli had the appearance of a man in his forties as evidenced by his dusty blonde hair turning white at the roots along his side burns and whiskers. His hair was covered by a hat normally adorned by men who journey through jungles on a safari. The only jungle he was in was an unkempt tent near the village unless tall grass counts as something. A relatively tall, dark brown-skinned woman wearing a blue head wrap and long skirt blanketed her exposed, tattooed breasts with a thin blue sash as she followed the mustachioed man. She was his translator and unnamed at the moment.

_Many stories could be produced to explain the importance of trading between Egyptians and Puntites, who are now Ethiopians just as Sudan's people were called thus accordingly, but I fear none have resurfaced even though we seek some historical evidence of their relationship in the past. There are the biblical references to ancient Puntites, or Ethiopians and Sudanese people, and even more philosophical references from the ancient Greeks. However, we have found nothing relating to the history of the nations. The African people are a strong race, but, like their religious beliefs in earlier times, their history all lie in mystery. Why was the Kingdom of Kush and the Egyptian kingdom on good terms one moment and at war the next? No one truly knows..._

"Professor Fuccili?"

_I believe there is something out there, some missing link that can solve my problems and answer my questions. What is it about the nations along the Nile that truly drives my quest to solve their mysteries? What stories are out there waiting to be told? Perhaps there will someday be a story worth telling. After all, no story is without a hero. Someday one will show... _

"Professor Fuccili!"

"Oh, what is it?" Fuccili responded, annoyed by the repetitive calls.

Fuccili was a history professor and art patron from Italy. He has the white hair and appearance of someone relatively in his early sixties, but he behaved and had the energy of someone who was more in his early forties. Fuccili was in Ethiopia and had been for nearly twenty years. Of course, his stay in the country was more like a visit every year. He normally came to Ethiopia to teach younger students how to read and write in Italian, English, and their native Arabic during the school year or at least half of that time. That's how he ended up in Ethiopia. Rather than become a teacher in Egypt, he wanted to expand the uses of education to other African countries. Ethiopia was his breaking point. He gathered a couple of teachers with him and started a school, or tutoring program to be precise. He had been coming to teach new students every year since then.

"The caravan is here, waiting to leave," Favelli informed, equally annoyed with his mentor. "Your student is not yet ready, is she?"

"Oh, bloody hell, I forgot about the damned girl!"

"Ugh," Favelli scoffed, rolling his eyes and smacking his teeth. "I can't hold off the caravan for another hour just because you didn't tell your apprentice to pack her things. They're replenishing supplies as we speak."

"Give me a moment, man! I'll find her," Fuccili snapped, looking through his tent for important items.

"As you wish," Favelli said, leading the Ethiopian woman away from the tent.

One fateful day, Fuccili was being attacked by a stray male lion, but a brave man named Tellacid killed the beast and saved his life. He offered the man many things like money, clothes, and the opportunity to get an education, but Tellacid instead gave those things to his children and wife. His youngest and charming daughter, Tallifu, became his apprentice. The other children were bright and did make use of his teachings, but none of his students were like Tallifu. She showed great promise to be a teacher and historian herself. He decided to keep coming back to Ethiopia because of his closest friend, Tellacid, and his beautiful family. Today, Fuccili was sending Tallifu to the American University in Cairo, Egypt. It would be her first time being away from her family for a few years at a time. She had gone to Italy to study art and develop her skills as a portrait artist for a couple of weeks when she was a teenager for about five or six years during the summers, but beyond that she had never truly left her home in Ethiopia. Fuccili managed to enroll her into the university's roster during the spring semester, and an associate in Cairo found her a job in the British Museum of Antiquites. All she needed now was a few recommendation letters, travel papers, a map, some clothes, and a little money to start off.

"Let's see... Aha, checklist: traveler's papers," Fuccili listed to himself as he searched for the items. For every item he called, he placed his findings inside of a satchel. Though he was a teacher and historian, he was quite the knitter. He created a special satchel with the pattern of a cheetah's coat to honor his apprentice and her name's meaning. He rubbed his work gently, smiled proudly, and then continued with his task. He said to himself, "Alright then, old bugger. The girl hasn't even left yet and you're about to tear up like some schoolboy. Let's get on with it, hm? Letters of recommendation, job application, a map, culture papers, a transcript, and of course ladies' attire for her first industrial job. There now. Oh! Can't forget her philosopher's kit. Now, to get the girl."

* * *

The sun was creeping into its prized position, where it could burn your skin so black that it looked blue and be a harsh demon laughing at your pain, at the afternoon hour. If there was a set time, one could say that it was 10:49 in the morning. A soft wind blew from the southeast, nudging the waves of the riverbanks to meet the shore. The tall grass made music as the wind sang to it. Not a sound was made that could disturb the eerie silence of the Ethiopian village. From the depths of the grass, a tall bushel of straw and mule hair emerged and with it was a tribal mask and a man practically the color of the earth that housed many flora moved across the plains in a crouched position. His muscles glistened in the sun's rays as he breathed like a predator. His fingertips caressed the earth beneath to feel his enemy, or his prey, and gained some vision of a swift prey moving to defend itself. His spear was clutched in his other fist as he spread his toes to feel the earth beneath him.

Then, a noise sounded and alerted his senses. His muscles tightened beautifully and the tension in his brow moved to his fingertips and toe tips and thighs. Though his face was covered by the large mask, you could hear his shallow then deepened breath as he calmed his heart down. Abruptly, arrows were firing in rapid succession! He took off in a sprint to escape the defenses and camouflaged himself in the trees of the forest to escape the hail of arrows. Little did he know, or was perhaps aware of, another masked warrior hidden in the trees. This creature was a woman. Her skin was not as dark as her counterpart, but it was a healthy brown color. Her mask was large for her size and made of bones and straw, and her hair was as wild and full as a lion's mane. Her left breast was hardly covered (the areola, or darker skin surrounding the nipple, was visible since the only thing truly covering her breast was the string of her top) while the other was blanketed by leathery animal hide.

As she watched the man, she lifted her bow, prepared three arrows at different angles, and fired them at the masked man. When he dodged them and hid in the bushes, she quietly replaced the bow onto her back and jumped from the tree branch she was perched on. She landed almost as quietly as she walked through the forest. Both warriors were hidden and preparing to strike the other. The southeast wind began to pick up. From the trees, the male warrior pounced at the woman. When he missed, he drew his spear and she drew hers. Wood clashed against wood as the warriors faced off. Releasing a harsh punch, the man broke the woman's spear in half, but she retaliated by clipping his left foot and sending a jab to his gut. He back-flipped in return and went to stab her with the spearhead, but she dodged, weaved, and stabbed him in the shoulder with the spearhead. Running behind him, she removed a clean dagger from a sheath on his hip and positioned it at his neck.

"You have gotten better," the man said in a deep, breathless voice.

"You were not easy prey," she responded, releasing him from her hold and standing straight.

The man removed his mask to reveal a strong-faced, thin-browed, and tall individual. The sweat covering his skin produced a glaze on his toned form. His pursed his large lips as he looked at the woman standing before him and then flattened them to show respect in his features. He waited for the woman to remove her mask and smiled when she did. Her hair was hardly affected by the mask's string as it pulled her locks forward. She shook her head a bit then wiped the sweat off her forehead. Unlike her counterpart, she had thick eyebrows and long eyelashes. She strapped her mask onto her arm like a shield and kneeled before the man to bow in respect. She was a beautiful woman with a lot of hair on her head and sensual lips. She had a bone in her right eyebrow small enough to be considered a ring piercing, and her body was curved with muscle though lithe from a distance.

"You make a fine hunter, yet you study like the white-faced men. Why?"

"Strength is as worthless as the dust beneath your fingernails without wisdom to couple with it," the woman answered calmly.

"Big sister!" a small voice called.

"Is that Walei?" the man questioned, furrowing his brow.

A young ten-year-old boy about the same complexion as the woman, though a few shades lighter, was running through the forest. As he approached the couple, he grabbed the woman's hand and pulled her up with surprising strength. The woman looked into the boy's eyes for an answer, but he was panting as he was pulling her up and tugging her away by some inches. When she yanked her hand back, she stooped down to his level and placed a gentle hand on his soft cheek. He also had an eyebrow piercing with some sharpened bone.

"Walei, what's wrong?" she asked softly.

"Big sister! Papa's trying to work again!" Walei replied, concern in his eyes.

The woman gasped with wide eyes and then said, "Take me to him."

Without another word, Walei nodded and brother and sister took off in a quiet sprint. The man frowned in concern at this, not knowing that his opponent's father had recently become ill. Walei, though young, was able to keep up with his older sister quite well. He may have been three to four feet behind her but he was at her heels, and she was a prized runner of the village! Many villagers waved to them as they ran. The mules crooned and the fishermen yelped with joy when a large fish was caught in the nets. Children were playing near a large tree, where the elder of the village would teach them religion and village customs, and grasshoppers would fly into the air to escape their excitement. The women of the village watched the running girl with a hint of scorn and jealousy. Others, such as the older women, watched with concern in their eyes or curiosity.

There were Italian and foreign men who traveled through the Ethiopian roads and grasslands to see the villagers. Normally, the foreigners were associates of the teachers and hunters who liked to watch the women bend over or do something active. They considered the exposed breasts of the Ethiopian women a special treat; however, the Ethiopian women considered their exposed breasts as a warning: it was bloody hot! When the siblings made it to their home, the woman slowed down to a stop near the wagon road in front of a large hut. She placed her mask, spear, quiver and bow onto the weapons' stand, where the family's heirlooms and treasures were located, and wiped her feet hurriedly to find her father. Walei didn't have many weapons (with exception to the dagger an elder bestowed upon him before his death) but he placed his onto the stand as well and mimicked his sister's gestures and courtesy.

Inside of the hut, a dark brown-skinned man dressed in yellow robes was hunched over coughing, showing spittle escaping his lips. He moaned and rubbed his back, trying to ease the pain of pins and needles in his bed. When his son and daughter ran to his side, he erased every bit of pain and gagging from his tall form with a smile. The last thing he wanted to hear or see was his children's sympathy or worries. However, when he looked into their eyes, he saw that he wouldn't be able to mask his pain so easily.

"Papa, you can't keep doing this to yourself," his daughter lectured. "You'll make the pain worse."

The man stood straight up and walked over to a pile of pillows - the equivalent of a sofa - to lay across them as if nothing was wrong with him. He outstretched his arms for an embrace to which both children responded by jumping into his arms and receiving tickles. He turned to his sweet daughter and smiled. She looked so much like her mother now: young, beautiful, cheerful, free-spirited. The only difference between them was their strength. While his daughter had physical power, his late wife had spiritual power. Another thing was their intelligence since his daughter would be leaving him to be an academic warrior rather than just a prized one. By her being both smart and strong, it would become harder to send her off to marry. His expectations were already high. There were several men in the village who tried to court her, but they gave up fairly soon and left her to be courted by the Italian or foreign travelers. Only one Italian man attracted his attention and hers, but he was due to be wed to another woman.

"You should be studying, my Tallifu," the father said, facing his daughter. "Promise me you will at least be strong and study like these white men. They hardly do anything other than talk but they live good lives. You should be able to do the same, even if your skin is darker."

"These white men don't care about black women who read," Tallifu whispered, looking down at her father's tribal markings across his chest. The lion's paw was the proudest tattoo scribbled, etched, and burned into his skin.

He placed a finger under his chin and said, "Make them, daughter."

"Father," a tall young man called, entering the hut. He was the eldest son and brother to Tallifu and Walei. He built his own hut a little distance away from home to raise his own family, but you could always find him helping his father, especially now that he was ill. His name was Elfad, and he was a student to an Italian teacher like all of his brothers and sisters. In fact, he came to get Tallifu since Professor Fuccili had been hunting around for her. He said to his younger sister, "The caravan is here for you, little sister. Your mentor awaits your presence."

Walei pouted then looked down at his father's lion paw, too. He whimpered softly, "I don't want you to go, Tallifu. What if you forget me?"

Tallifu looked into Walei's eyes and almost immediately wanted to cry. The warrior that ran all the way home without being breathless and panting was gone. She took Walei's small hands into one of hers and then dug in her hair to produce a carving of a lion's roaring head connected to a leathery string with rubies and gold pieces along the bottom of the necklace. She put the necklace around Walei's head and said softly, "So long as you keep this, we are never apart. Be good, my brother. You're still a big head!"

Walei smiled then argued, "Says the girl with a monkey bush for a head!"

Tallifu laughed at the insult then turned to her father and placed her hand on his cheek. She said, "Father, promise me you won't overwork yourself. I don't want to lose you because you like being a stubborn mule."

"Elfad, is she in there?" Fuccili asked, sounding annoyed and tired. "I say I don't know how you Ethiopes handle this sun!"

Tallifu left her father's side, nodded to Elfad, and then left the tent as Elfad to her place at their father's side. Fuccili waved to the girl once she stepped out of the hunt and outstretched his arms for an embrace. Tallifu honored his wish and smiled at him sweetly when she released him.

"How's my old friend, Tellacid? Sleeping?" Fuccili asked.

"The exact opposite actually," Tallifu replied. "He was trying to work in the fields again. He won't get any better if he keeps doing that."

"How was training? I know how much you love to kick ass," Fuccili joked, covering his forehead from the sun's relentless beams.

"Is that a new knitting project?" Tallifu asked, pointing at the satchel in Fuccili's occupied hand.

"Ah, this is actually for you," Fuccili said, grinning proudly at Tallifu's soft gasp. Her face lit up so beautifully it practically unnerved him. How was such a pretty, exotic woman also the village's best student, artist, and hunter? John Smith probably would have left Pocahontas for her! He shook his head of these silly thoughts and gave Tallifu a serious glance. He informed her, "The caravan to Cairo, Egypt is here. You have to be ready soon. They're replenishing their supplies now. You have an hour. I can get a car out here to take you to the river. After that, you'll be traveling by boat until you get to Aswan in Egypt. That's the - "

"Country above Sudan, which is directly above us," Tallifu continued, watching Fuccili take out a notepad and a pencil.

"Right. Once you get to Aswan, you take the train to Cairo," Fuccili instructed, confident in Tallifu's navigational skills. He removed a picture from his pocket and showed it to the woman, "My associate is a man named Omar Hasad. He is the new curator of the British Museum in Cairo. He will wait for you to arrive there. The journey should take no more than three days time. I hope you don't get sea sick like I used to when I was your age."

Tallifu looked at the photograph once more and noticed that the curator was standing next to another man dressed in dark robes. They both had markings on their faces. It reminded her of the men in her village; namely, the warriors and elders. She saw their hard-pressed faces glaring into the camera lens and wondered what made them look so...angry, unhappy even. Surely a picture produced some sort of smile. The pictures she had taken were memories of a happier time in her life. School photographs were her favorite among many. These two were in no sort of happy mood; in fact, the older man - probably Hasad - had his lips pressed into a thin line as he sat in a chair in what looked like a library. The younger individual was dressed in a black cloak with silver embroidery and looked fairly surprised and annoyed by the picture. He reached for Hasad's shoulder but you couldn't tell what he was going for. It was an interesting pose. His hair was attractive, though: long, wavy, covering what could be seen of his head. His lips parted into a swift intake of breath.

"Do all Egyptian men take such ill-faced photographs?" Tallifu asked, searching in her mentor's eyes for the truth.

"Certainly not, dear girl. These two were probably caught at a bad time."

"Pity. They both would have made interesting subjects, especially as portraits. Excuse me. I must bathe. When I'm done, I shall pack my things," Tallifu said, turning back to the hut to pack a few outfits.

"You'll also be needing to pack a new wardrobe," Fuccili called, forcing Tallifu to turn.

"A new what?"

* * *

The late morning hour was a harsh one for the Medjai soldiers as they patrolled the Egyptian desert leading to Hamunaptra. The sun was taunting them as it obnoxiously crept its way to its most powerful moment of brilliance. Every hour, the shift to watch over the city of the dead switched to a team of either nine or ten. Three men stayed behind to watch over the camp hidden behind the mountains: one protected the camp, another remained in contact with a source in Cairo or wherever that source was located, and one sent a message to the other tribes. Sometimes, all eleven or twelve warriors kept patrol while one man did all three things, but there was only one man capable of handling such tasks: Ardeth Bay, chieftain of the first tribe of Medjai warriors. In fact, Ardeth was in his tent now, but he wasn't patrolling at the moment.

His eyes were closed, but you could feel the tension from his other senses as he quietly listened to his surroundings. Though he was in the bath house, he was still guardian of the camp until the hour was over. He tilted his head back as the cool water caressed his bronze skin. His hair was soaked to the scalp and covered his neck as the locks tried desperately to swim through the grooves between the muscles in his back. As a student of Egyptian history, he was fascinated by the intelligence of early humans. Their ability to create monumental wonders for many generations from many different worlds to see was impeccable! The bath house he was in now was a sign of that. It was once a temple to worship the ancient god, Hapy, who was believed to bring the early Egyptian people yearly flooding. Remnants of statues built for Hapy and hieroglyphs along the columns of the house were still there.

He breathed softly as he felt the sun's beams light the bath water. Glittering waves lit his own skin and somehow put a calmness into his soul. On his left side, he pulled a blue wash cloth up to his toned chest and soaked it for a while. When it dripped with water, he gently rubbed the crook of his neck with the cloth and sighed deeply. As he washed the dirt from his skin little by little and limb by limb, he paused when the cloth touched his thigh. From that small tease, Ardeth began to wonder for a moment. He had been introduced to many unmarried women lately, and he respected the wishes of his fellow tribesmen to consider taking a wife. After all, it is customary to do so when you're of proper age and he has been of proper age for several years. When was the last time he had ever let someone touch his skin? He was once a religion-less risk-taker before he turned to a faithful Muslim and Medjai chieftain.

Ardeth shook his head from the pros and cons of marriage and simply kept his attention to Egyptian history as he looked at the hieroglyphs still making their presence known in the bath house. Why on Earth would he be feeling lusty right now? He wasn't this frisky before, was he? Wringing the cloth, Ardeth stood to his feet, letting the sun's rays reflecting light against the water shine upon his wet skin, and raked a hand through his hair. A small breeze passed through the window openings of the old temple and made his skin react. A shiver ran up his spine as he left the bath. He covered his lower body with a long-skirted loin cloth and began to dry himself off with a red cloth. Horses whinnied in the distance, alerting Ardeth's attention, but, when he heard the voices of his men, he calmed himself and continued drying himself off. Footsteps were then heard shuffling towards him and a young man dressed in the now-traditional black robes with a little silver along the collar came inside of the bath house.

"Chieftain, we have returned from the - Oh! I'm sorry, sir!" the man said, turning away from Ardeth.

Theoretically, the young man already burst into the ruined temple with the assumption that the chieftain was probably still bathing or might have been done. Either or would've sufficed. To have seen his leader still half-nude and in a brown dress was some type of curse on his psyche! When Ardeth cleared his throat to get the man's attention, he tugged on his black and silver robes to cover the rest of his body and gave him a searching glance. The younger man was about to leave and stuttered a bit to which the chieftain silently nodded to reassure him that he was dressed well enough. Ardeth raised a hand to silence the man and instead directed him to sit on the pillows in the corridor of the ruined temple. When both men took a seat, Ardeth took a bunch of grapes from a serving tray and offered the same to his fellow tribesman.

"What is wrong, Djali?" Ardeth asked calmly.

Djali stuffed his mouth with grapes, not even noticing that he was lacking in table manners in front of his own chieftain, and then looked into Ardeth's eyes with a confused look. When he remembered what he came there for, he quickly gulped down the fruit and spoke. He said, "Ah, yes! The elder from the third tribe is here to see you, sir."

"Don't bother. I'm already here," another voice sounded, startling Djali.

"Hasad," Ardeth greeted, bowing in respect to the elder.

"I love being old," Hasad started, sitting on a pillow adjacent to both Ardeth and Djali. "You get to remember how much of an ass you were when you were this young. Showing off your half-naked body to a man is questionable of you, chieftain. Watch yourself next time, hm. You can be clothed and still good-looking...to someone other than your tribesmen."

"What is the reason for your visit?" Ardeth questioned, ignoring the banter on his sexuality.

"I have a new student coming to Cairo in three days. She doesn't have a home in Egypt, and she's never been to Egypt either. She's foreign to us but not to the country. I don't know where's she from exactly since my associate didn't tell me much about her, but her presence at the university and the museum may hinder our contact times during the day. For safety purposes, I'll be needing to contact you around nightfall or closing time. She'll be living in the museum for a while until we can get her a room and board arrangement."

"You know nothing of the woman?" Ardeth inquired. "Not even a name?"

"Her actual name is rather long I hear, so my associate gave her a relatively easier one to remember. That's the most I know about her name. The paperwork and information I need of her is with her. If you'll excuse me, gentlemen, I could use a drink."


End file.
